


Possession

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Begging, Biting, Bruises, Dominance, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Ownership, Rimming, chrollo cries, im going to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That which issues from the heart alone, Will bend the hearts of others to your own.”<br/>― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: First Part </p>
<p>Chrollo never knew the depths of Silva's possessive nature until he becomes the object of a dragon's hoard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> man i churned this one out in less than four hours, holy shit. shout out to yougei, i initially talked about this idea with him awhile back and it finally made its way to the top of the fic list. just some background, this is taking place after chrollo loses his nen. turns out he was having a sleep over at the zoldycks while waiting for hisoka and the rest to find an exorcist.

When Silva entered the room it was like a cold chill passing down a bare spine. There was anger in his gait, frustration and tension heavy in his broad shoulders. Chrollo sat up from his relaxed lounge on the chaise and closed his book. It wasn’t often that Silva got into these sorts of moods but he was coming to expect them. He had certainly been staying with him for long enough to pick up on the myriad tempers the assassin wore like yoked weights.

Silva sat down heavily beside Chrollo, laying back with a tired sigh. With little effort he was able to wrap a hand around Chrollo’s waist and pull him onto his lap. There wasn’t much point in fighting it and Chrollo went easily. Large hands stroked his thighs, his abdomen, snuck under his shirt to dance hot fingers along his back. Chrollo arched into it like a cat and stared down at sharp eyes.

“You seem tense,” he mentioned, letting his own hands wander into silver tresses. Every strand was like spun steel, beautiful and deadly like a honed sword’s edge. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown?”

Silva grunted and pulled at the shirt until Chrollo got the hint to take it off or have it in pieces. “I don’t enjoy it when my property is taken from me.” He rolled his hips into Chrollo’s and watched as he hummed, eyes fluttering shut like the wings of moths.

“How unfortunate for you,” Chrollo replied, letting his hands roam along Silva’s firm chest. “Maybe you should endeavor to not be quite so possessive. It’s not always an attractive quality.”

There was a grimace and Silva flipped them, enveloping Chrollo’s slender figure with his bulk. “I am entitled to my property. I can be whatever I want with it,” Silva grunted, not completely childish but enough to make Chrollo laugh. He turned Chrollo to rest him on his stomach and began exploring the skin of his back with his mouth and hands.

It never ceased to send a shiver down his spine when Chrollo felt those bone crushing hands handle him like glass. He supposed though that in his current, nenless state, he was all but spun glass in Silva’s hold. The mouth though was less forgiving, biting and sucking bruises against his neck, shoulder blades, along his ribs. Silva trailed lower and lower and he couldn’t help but press into it.

Chrollo couldn’t help but smile when he felt Silva stutter along his tattoo, lips and teeth nipping at the thick lines tickling the skin of his lower back. He chuckled a bit at the attention, looking over his shoulder at the jealous fire now burning in bright eyes. That wasn’t a new development per se, but it didn’t tend to bode well.

“Be careful not to damage that. I do eventually have to go back once this nen problem resolves itself,” he warned, arching his hips up a bit so Silva could get a better hold. “Fixing tattoos can be a tricky business.”

Silva growled at that, bit harder and Chrollo grunted. A tongue laved at the mark and Chrollo found the grip on his hips suddenly like iron.

Chrollo glared at Silva and shoved a bit at his head. “Hey, what did I just say?” He went to swipe at Silva again but found his wrist snatched, completely enclosed in a massive hand.

Catlike eyes flared hot and Chrollo froze.

“You belong to me. You’re mine to mark.”

There was no room for denial, refusal. Silva bit down hard on the tattooed skin, sucking a bright mark into the flesh. He held Chrollo in place by his wrist and hip and Chrollo was forced to take it. It didn’t stop him from fighting though.

He tugged harshly at his wrist and smiled venomously. “You own me? Silva, I really don’t think you do,” he began as Silva hoisted him up onto his knees, his captured wrist tucked into the small of his back. Right over the tattoo. “You act like this is some permanent arrangement. What will you do when I leave?”

Bruises bloomed under fingertips and Silva growled, sending the vibrations through Chrollo’s trapped body like thunder. “How will you ever leave, Chrollo? You’re as weak as a kitten,” Silva crooned, deceptively saccharine when compared to the rough treatment he was doling out. He let a hand thumb at Chrollo’s entrance, prompting shudder after shudder to wrack his body. “You can’t even open the front gate by yourself, let along traverse the grounds. You’re safe here with me. Safe and taken care of.”

It was tempting, Chrollo found, to give in to the voice and the promise of more. There was something infinitely appealing about the idea of giving in, never having to worry or bother. To just let Silva have his way, let him own him like a dragon coveting his hoard. Absolutely, utterly, and hedonistically. The mouth descended on his tattoo again, this time biting hard enough to draw blood. He could feel it pooling, painting over the ink.

“What about when I get my nen back?” he posed, gasping as Silva moved his sharp teeth to the flesh of his ass. He licked over each bite, soothing the sting. “When I’m not a weak, defenseless kitten in your arms?”

Silva released his pinned wrist so he could spread him open with both hands. “You’ll still belong to me,” he replied, possessive and unchangeable as steel. It wasn’t much of a warning, but it was all Chrollo got before Silva licked into him and made him bite the sheets.

In their long acquaintance, Chrollo could confidently say that this was the first time Silva had ever gone down on him in any way. It was debilitating, sending fevered mercury through his veins, into his heart enough that he feared he might melt into the bedding. For once, words were beyond him.

Some part of him, some deep and buried part immune to the distractions of the flesh, told him that that had probably been the goal.

It didn’t stop him from vocalizing his pleasure. Chrollo moaned as Silva opened him up with his mouth, pressing his tongue against the sensitive rim before forcing its way in. He fucked him with his mouth and dug his fingers into every available inch of flesh within his reach, further marking his claim. Chrollo could feel the assassin’s signature rising on his skin even as they fucked, proclaiming Chrollo’s true owner. He wished he had it in him to be angry, to refuse and deny, but the ministrations had every nerve alight and him beyond any ability to fight.

Silva seemed to know and he took that moment to stop, cutting Chrollo off inches from his peak. Chrollo cried out, fisted the sheets between his fingers and thrust blindly back. Silva merely chuckled, wiped his mouth before forcing Chrollo’s face to meet his.

“You’re mine. Only I can mark you. Only I can do this to you,” Silva commanded, voice steel and the promise of satisfaction. “Do you understand?” He held Chrollo’s chin in his fingers and dug into the meat of his thigh when a reply wasn’t immediately forthcoming.

Chrollo bit his lip and struggled to see through the tears muddling his vision, his body shaking from the stimulation still rocking in his core. “What if you get bored of me?” he managed, fighting to get his voice under control. It shook with him, making him sound all the weaker.

Silva smiled, kind if not for the possessive glint in his eye, and moved his hand to cup Chrollo’s tear-streaked cheek. “Then I’ll make you exciting again. You’re mine, Chrollo,” he replied, tracing his thumb over swelled lips. “Now say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

Chrollo really did. It didn’t make it easier. He focused on the way the thumb stroked his cheeks, wiped away his tears, and he took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m yours,” he finally said, averting his eyes until his head was forced back up. There was victory in Silva’s eyes and Chrollo loathed it until he was flipped onto his back, his legs resting on broad shoulders, his ass back to Silva’s mouth. At that point, Chrollo forgot the shame and simply let himself enjoy being owned.

When Silva began to press his fingers in alongside his tongue, Chrollo finally lost his fight to hold back. He writhed against the sheets, locking his legs behind Silva’s neck to force his tongue deeper. There was a moment where he reached out a hand to work himself, only to place it back above his head when fire hot eyes pinned him in place. It was all too much, not enough, and Chrollo begged for Silva to make it all better. Like he promised.

Silva delivered, curling his fingers and massaging the spot inside that made everything erupt in white.

He came with Silva’s name on his lips and complete surrender in his bones. Chrollo came back to himself with Silva working himself off above him, eyes fixed on the marks littering his skin and the dazed expression in his eyes. It didn’t take him long to add to the mess coating Chrollo’s stomach.

It was another form of claiming and Chrollo didn’t have the energy to deny him anymore. Instead, he let himself be enveloped in Silva’s arms, tucked under his chin to drown in his hold. Silva stroked down his side and flank, possessive fire still smoldering beneath the sated ashes of his orgasm. Chrollo ignored it and let the throb of the rising bruises lull him in time to the assassin’s breathing.

There were worse things, he supposed, than being the object of a dragon’s hoard.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoyed that cause i am DRAINED. all these new kinks and shit, its exhausting. anyway, check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and let me know how you liked it. i live for your feedback. Until next time!


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